


Explorers of the Unknown

by HeronS



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Anxiety, Character Study, D/s, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Power Dynamics, Second Time, Vulcan Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-05 05:18:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11006784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeronS/pseuds/HeronS
Summary: The first time is expected to lead to a second time. But Spock is trembling. Fortunately, Jim knows just what to do.While I've written a lot of fanfics, this is my first time ever writing slash - I'm hoping it's emotional, touching, a bit exhilarating and sweet. Let me know how I did!





	1. Chapter 1

It had started out as a light kiss, lips brushing against lips like soft feathers. Compared to the intense physicality of a few nights ago, it was an innocent gesture, Jim thought. Its electrifying charge was born purely from its potential of things that might come.

It was all the more startling, therefore, when the other wrenched himself away. 

The softness of the kiss stood in glaring contrast to how Spock launched himself across his quarters, coming to an abrupt, crashing stop several meters away. His back was towards his friend and his left hand was buried in the mesh that separated his sleeping alcove from the rest of the small cabin. Spock's other hand made a fist, and Jim could see light tremors going up the arm from it.

For a while, their breathing was the only sound in the room. Jim's was fast, adrenaline now coursing through him for more than one reason. It heightened his senses, made him hyperaware of a faint trace of spicy incense that lingered in the air, and the soft, red light of the cabin. The heavy red drapes on the walls... blood red, they might have been called, had not Spock bled green. 

Jim's gaze fell on the bladed weapons on the wall - family heirlooms that his peaceful first officer nonetheless always kept with him. The swords and daggers were firmly bolted to the wall, restrained by polymer bindings of the kind that was used to secure the warp chamber. Overkill, according to the quartermaster, but Spock had insisted on that. You had to be prepared for attacks that shook the ship, explosive failings in ship's systems. 

Catastrophic losses of gravity.

Was this one of those?

Jim moved a few steps further into the room, his hand encountering and then trailing across the surface of the desk. Then he leaned against it, one hip resting on the top. His thigh pressed against the secure computer terminal there. The screen was dark and it too was bolted down and would respond only to Spock's or Jim's commands: the secrets it guarded were far more deadly than even the ancient Vulcan weapons, after all.

It had been three days, four hours... thirty-something minutes? Spock would know exactly, but Jim had a pretty good time sense as well. He also had a lightning-quick mind by grace of his DNA. A mind that then, by the grace of Starfleet, had been trained to the utmost extent of its capability - all in order to solve problems. Intuit solutions. Turn challenges into opportunities.

He studied the back of his first officer, remaining absolutely still.

Spock's breathing was deep, slow and perfectly rhythmical. In a human it would have signified serenity. In Spock, it meant that he was actively controlling his body, making it a slave to his conscious will. Locking it down, securing it.

Jim waited.

It took another eight minutes or so, before the Vulcan was able to turn around, the movement slow and tortured. Jim gave him a welcoming smile - it was small and subtle, but enough to dissipate some of the tension in the tall frame. 

The Vulcan closed the distance between them, then, left hand coming to rest lightly on the computer terminal to Jim's right. His gaze flickered over the floor before finally rising high enough to meet Jim's eyes. He was trying to disguise the apology in them, because he knew that his friend would object to its necessity.

Hesitantly, Spock raised his hands and put them on Jim's shoulders, letting long fingers trail down the uniform clad arms and finally come to rest on the backs of Jim's hands. After a second, Jim turned his palms up, and when that didn't cause the Vulcan to flee, he slowly closed his grip. Fingertips to fingertips their hands rested.

Now Jim could feel the small tremors that were coursing through the Vulcan's body. He made himself take a moment to reflect on what he would have done if Spock had been human. Then he put those thoughts away. 

He knew this man. This alien. Knew that the fear running through him had nothing to do with his own safety, and everything to do with Jim's. That the desires within him threatened his self control, and that losing that would be as devastating to the Vulcan as being helpless would be to Jim. 

Jim loosened his grip and let his hands slip up to cover Spock's wrists. Spock mimicked the gesture, but when Jim made his grip on the other's wrists firmer, just on the verge of bruising, Spock let his own grip remain loose.

Jim rose. Keeping his grip on Spock, he walked backwards towards the sleeping area. Tension sprang up in the muscles beneath his hands, but a firm tug made Spock follow, and once they'd reached the edge of the bed Jim directed him down into it. Then he made the Vulcan turn over to his stomach and lowered himself on top of him. For the first few moments, he let his elbows take much of the weight but then, reminding himself again that the alien beneath him was far stronger than he was, he eased down, transferring his full weight onto the man beneath him. He reached up toward the top of the bed and grasped Spock's wrists firmly again, and let his head rest in the crock of the other's neck.

For long minutes they just breathed together, until Jim felt the over-controlled, paced breaths beneath him relax slightly. 

"I am not communicating well enough," Spock said then, voice low.

Jim smiled against his skin, burrowed his nose in deeper. 

"You're communicating just fine. I read you loud and clear." 

He squeezed Spock's wrists once and then turned his head and just rested his cheek against Spock's neck.

After another minute, Spock spoke again. "You are... aroused."

"Mm," Jim answered noncommittally, though the hardness between them was unmistakable. "It will go away soon."

"I could..."

"No."

"Jim, I want..."

"No." He squeezed the wrists again. "The only thing that's going to happen tonight is that we're going to stay like this for another forty... four minutes, or so, give or take a few seconds. And then I'm going to check in with the bridge, and then go to bed in my own cabin so that you can have some peace and quiet to meditate. Nothing more is expected of you."

For a second, everything was still, and then Jim felt the body beneath him relax. He resisted kissing the tempting neck before him, that would have been outside the boundaries he'd just established and Spock needed to know, to feel in his body, that he was as good as his word. Luxuriating in the warmth pressing up on him, he let himself begin to drift.

"Jim, I wish to tell you something."

"Because you expect me to need you to talk about this, or because you really want me to know?"

Spock considered this. "Both."

"Mm. Alright, go ahead."

"The... release... we found together in the aftermaths of the pon farr... I treasured it." The words were slow in coming. "I will carry that memory with me for as long as I live, Jim... But now when the blood fever has passed... I don't trust myself... I'm not sure..." It became impossible to continue.

"It's fine."

"Jim..." Spock moved restlessly, but Jim moved with him, letting his body weight be an anchor keeping the Vulcan still, safe, constrained. Spock relaxed again.

"Spock, do you enjoy this, what we're doing right now?" 

"Yes. Very much so."

"Then we could do only this for years to come."

"...Only?" a startled note of disapproval. Jim chuckled.

"What would you want? In the near future?"

"I want... to bring you pleasure."

"I'd consent to that. We'll figure out the rest as we go along, and we'll set boundaries that are very clear for each and every time that we're together. I don't ever want you to feel lost or frightened or pressured or out of control." 

Jim let his hand drift up so that his fingers lay on top of Spock's. After a caress, he interwined them, and felt the Vulcan squeeze back. He kept the grip firm, knowing that the Vulcan had gone out on a limb of unprecedented openness when it came to talking about sex, just now. But what Jim would say next was so far out of Vulcan propriety - or at least what the young Vulcan beneath him thought of as Vulcan propriety - that it could very well saw off that limb.

"As long as there's consent, there's very little we can't do." Jim said. "If you tell me that you want me to hold you down and take you while you focus on not losing your self control, we can do that. If you want me to blow you and then leave, so that you do not have to feel pressure to also care for my desires, we can do that. If the only pleasure you, right now, can allow yourself without losing control is to watch me pleasure myself, we can do that." He squeezed the hands under his own. "Alright?"

Spock's was having trouble with his breathing again, and Jim knew that he was not the only one with a hard on. 

"I really need you to answer me, my friend."

"Yes." It came out a bit breathlessly, and Spock swallowed and repeated in a much firmer tone. "Yes."

"You still comfortable?"

"Yes." A bit hesitantly, as if wanting to see if Jim would object to this minute shift in their arrangement, Spock brought their left hands down to his mouth. Greatly daring, he placed a single kiss on the back of Jim's hand, and then folded both hands beneath his torso. His human blanket flowed with him gracefully.

"How many more minutes do we have?"

"Thirty... three... and eight seconds." The slight, almost drowsy hesitation made Jim's heart swell.

He said nothing, letting the harmonious beating of their hearts do the talking for him. There would be plenty of time tomorrow night, and the night after, and all the nights after that, to keep communicating.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot, but then. Well.
> 
> This is an emotional and cultural exploration as much as it is sensual and sexual.
> 
> The themes include control, self-control, consent and trust. And how the spirituality and sensuality of sex can be just as, or more, important as the sexual release.

"Spock," Jim said softly, his hand gliding up the other's back and coming to rest between his shoulder blades.

The man beneath him did not immediately respond. Most recently, Jim had directed him to his knees and elbows, head resting on crossed arms. The Vulcan's eyes were closed, his shoulders relaxed, the strong body moving only slightly in response to Jim's leisurely penetrations. Jim couldn't have been more proud of him.

"Spock," he said again, stilling his movements within the cool body. He scratched carefully at the nape of Spock's neck. "I'm sorry, I need you to come up for a moment."

The wait this time was only about ten seconds, but it was enough for Jim to regretfully pull out and wrap his arms around the other, pulling them down facing each other on their sides on the rumpled bed. 

The state of the bed made Jim reflect on the surprisingly detailed woodcuts that they had studied before this, which had shown only perfect expanses of silk covering low, wide sleeping platforms with perfectly symmetrically placed pillows, upon which perfectly proportioned and perfectly controlled pre-Surakian warriors had enjoyed themselves with perfectly serene expressions. Their own bed had, by now, twisted sheets galore, and at least one of the pillows had somehow landed over by the dresser. The sheets had even torn slightly under Spock's hands in the beginning of the night, when control had been harder for both of them. Maybe, whatever Spock said about his ancestors' devotion to truth in all things, some poetic licence had been taken in those woodcuts and the descriptions. Or maybe he and Spock were just novices still, in this alien art of sex and control. Either way, this was perfect too.

"...Yes?" Spock demanded now, tone serene and far away, eyes still closed. Resisting the urge to draw him closer, Jim instead squeezed his upper arm.

"Hey, Commander, if I have 250 metric millimeters of dilithium and a busted processing chamber that allow only for a 0.7 ppm output, how far would that get me on warp 2?"

Spock's eyes blinked open immediately at that, becoming more and more present by the moment. He studied his captain's face before him.

"You do not wish for the answer to that," he accused.

"Couldn't care less," Jim acknowledged with a small smile. "But I do need to ask you something. I want to add something to what we agreed on before."

"I consent," Spock said immediately, eyes closing once more, and Jim huffed in exasperation.

Consent had turned out to be trickier than you might think, between them. It was not because either of them harbored any secret desire to hurt the other, far from it, but because for a species of telepaths who merged consciousnesses, the notion of consent would necessarily be different to that of humans. And until Spock felt sure enough of himself to meld them during sex, the discrepancy between the perceptions of the touch telepath and the mind-blind human would continue. And need to be resolved.

"Well, until I can see with my own eyes that you know what you're agreeing to, I don't consent myself," Jim chided softly now, hand tapping the other's thigh. Now Spock's eyes lost the last of the faraway look which the meditative trance had bestowed on them, and he was all there, his full attention on his lover.

"I apologize," Spock said. "Please tell me what you wish to do." 

Spock was already sure from the brief mind touch that sparkled between them, that whatever Jim was suggesting would be beneficial. Coupled with his trust in the man beside him, this meant that interruptions such as this felt unnecessary to his subconscious mind. But he would adapt.

"Mmm. I want to use the dermal generator on you to make you tighter. I think we can do this for a long time yet, but you are becoming loose. Now that helps me," Jim said with a smile, "and you're clearly enjoying this, but I think we're cheating. You can take more. And you can go deeper."

Spock nodded readily. Jim's leisurely movements inside him for the last twenty two minutes had been almost hypnotic. Bound by Jim's word - the human had suggested restraints, but Spock didn't quite see the point of this. This was about self-control and trust after all - and held in place by the body above him, he had been able to give up more and more of his ties to the conscious world. He had, at the end before his lover called him back, drifted between several deep levels of meditation, mind inching further and further into the All. It had been exquisite.

But Spock knew, and so did Jim, that as pleasant as this drifting was, they were only lounging in the most shallow level of the Kahs Rilya. And he had wanted more.

At Spock's hesitant suggestion they had read several pre-Surakian texts together the night before. The texts depicted the life and practices of the bonded warriors, the elite of the fighting forces of ancient Vulcan. When they had come to descriptions of the Kahs Rilya, Spock had felt a shockwave go through his entire body. He had suddenly stilled, and some of his post-plak tow anxiety, which so far had seemed impossible to excise, had abruptly eased.

Jim had studied him then. "Is this what you need?" He had asked simply.

Spock could at first only nod, but remembering the human's preference for audible responses when it came to these topics, he had made himself say "Yes."

"But," he had added a second later, "this would be alien to you."

"I find I have a taste for the alien," Jim had said with a smile and a very human kiss.

"Jim," Spock had chided, "The physiological fact is that you do not possess a penis bone. This would be difficult after the first hour or so."

At this Jim just huffed. "Don't you worry. This would be about control and willpower, wouldn't it? For both of us." He'd grabbed at the other's shoulders then, pushing Spock abruptly down on his back so that he could tower above him. If Spock had not wanted to be moved, Jim could never have moved him an inch. This was only one of the many things that Jim appreciated in his new lover.

He had lowered himself down in a slow sustained pushup, then, until he could whisper in the other's ear, "And it's usually a bad bet to bet against my willpower, Commander."

The bravado had dispelled the last nervousness from Spock's eyes, replacing it with something between fond exasperation and a challenge.

That had been last night. Jim now put the dermal generator on Spock's lower back and clicked through its first notifications. It found no major injuries, no minor injuries, should it go further? Yes. Finally it noted the pulled and extended muscles within and started to rebuild them with a low hum. Jim had reason to know that the experience was slightly painful, and he caressed Spock's back in soothing circles.

"Could you tell me what it was like?" He asked.

Spock considered this, part of his mind longing for when he could lose himself again.

"As you take me, I feel in control in a fundamental way," he said finally. "At the same time as I am giving up control. It is a paradox. But then many of the ancient ways are mired in paradoxes and mysticism." He frowned. "Ferreting out the insights they hold is a labor-intensive process."

"Maybe that's half the point?"

Spock acknowledged this with a tilt of his head. 

He paused then, smoothing out the rumpled sheet before him before continuing. "I find myself in a state of high energy, but all contained within me. I feel powerful, yet am yielding power." He raised an eyebrow, as a thought came to him. "Is the connection with power the reason why the most similar human concept you could think of was called 'subspace'."

Jim snorted in amusement, a very human sound. His hand continued its relaxing caresses. "No, though I see how you'd get that impression. No this has nothing to do with warp theory: Subspace is short, I believe, for submissive space. Maybe submission space. It's sexual but maybe more sensual. Maybe spiritual." He shook his head, "I don't have the know-how or right words for that, we'll have to look it up later. And I don't know how similar it would be to Kahs Rilya either - except that submission is clearly important here. And that it is more about the sensual and the spiritual than the sexual." 

Spock nodded.

In the beginning of the night, when Spock had been panting from the exertion of fighting down his own desires and Jim's grip on his hips had been bruising, the pleasure of the human's hard strokes coupled with tiny flashes of pain, they had touched upon a far deeper level of Kahs Rilya than the leisurely drifting of the last half hour. There had been a moment when Spock had been close to losing it, desire almost overwhelming him, blood rushing to his penis, thoughts of pushing the human down and taking him there and then flashing through his skull. But while Jim might have been amenable, at least at another time, the presence of that wild desire was still tainted with absolute fear for Spock. Foggy memories of the madness of the plak tow and what they'd shared then reverberated in his skull - pleasure, yes, but an out of control pleasure, clearly dangerous. At some point during the plak tow there had been blood, red blood, staining his hand and Spock could not for the life of him remember how that had happened. Jim had said that he'd cut his hand on the sharp edge of a table, and Spock had no reason to not believe him. But that wasn't the point. The point was that he couldn't remember when it had happened and that filled him with a wild, ungovernable fear.

The conflicting desires had tore at him and he let out a sound, a mix of a growl and a sob. Jim's hand had clamped down on his stiff cock then, painfully, turning the growl into a whimper. The human had pushed Spock down onto the mattress, holding him there with all his body mass for a few moments. 

"No." Jim had commanded then, his other hand tightening in Spock's hair. He waited until the Vulcan nodded. "I've got you. You can do this. I trust you, and you can trust yourself. Now I want you to stay absolutely still and silent. I know you can do it."

After Spock nodded again, Jim had pulled him up to his knees. He had let Spock wait then, while he left the bed, got himself a glass of water, and done a short mental sanity check. In order for Spock to lose himself in this, Jim had to stay wide aware after all. Fortunately, leadership and its responsibilities had its own special intoxicating quality for the starship captain.

He had gone back to the bed. Positioning himself behind the Vulcan, he had pulled the other man toward him so that they sat with their bodies flush against each other, Spocks buttocks had rested on Jim's knees. Then Jim had made sure that the other drank some of the water from his glass, before pushing him down again.

"Still, silent, controlled," Jim said as he lined himself up, a hand parting the cheeks before him. "Say it."

The Vulcan had repeated obediently, voice a little rusty, already halfway into the zone. He'd trembled slightly as Jim pushed into him, but after a while had found himself adapting to the human's rhythm, his thoughts focused only on maintaining his control. From one moment to the next then, as the love of the human washed over him, as Jim's approval and pride in him caressed him, as he gave himself wholly to the moment and to Jim, a lightning bolt had gone through his mind. For fifteen point two minutes there, he'd existed only in an eternal now, all his energy coiled like a golden ball within him, harnessed and powerful. Jim's energy enveloped him completely, a silver net guaranteeing him an absolute sense of safety and belonging.

Spock thought back to that state now, and longed for it, but he made himself turn his head to his lover.

"If you wish, we could end this now. I would bring you release."

"I might not make it those seven hours that the texts talked about, not until we get some more practice in, but we're still good to go for a long while longer."

"You are not used to denying yourself release. It is not the human way."

"When I was fifteen, I'd have agreed with you. But now... Sex can be about so much more than just a race to an orgasm. And don't think this is completely alien to humans - there are many similar practices."

Seeing Spock's sceptical eyebrow, Jim chuckled. 

"Well, with some similar ideas, at least. So, in China, for a long while, a male lover who was with a female was supposed to bring her to orgasm, preferably multiple times, all the while denying it to himself. The pleasure for the man was supposed to come from his banked sexual desire combined with the feeling of control. And the Indians, they make agonizingly long, leisurely couplings into an art form - actual art, I'll have to show you some of the drawings tomorrow..." 

Careful not to disturb the still-humming regenerator, which he'd moved lower and stuck between Spock's ass cheeks for bets access, Jim draped his torso over Spock's upper back and continued petting him. "I like being in control. Having you give yourself to me so willingly, that itself sets fire to something within me, just as strong a feeling as an orgasm. But I like other things as well. I know you don't remember much of the plak tow," he tightened a hand at Spock's neck for a moment when he said the word, waited to see if the word would cause some distress, but then continued. "But I was never unwilling. It was intensely erotic, and you never raped me. I've said it before, but I'll say it again and again until you are ready to truly, absolutely trust me: you were never totally out of control, even then. Nothing that I couldn't handle."

"It still shook me," Spock said quietly. "It made me question a lot of things about myself. Emotions run deep within my species, Jim, and I took such pride in my hard won control over them, before. Now..." 

He gave a small sigh. "I wonder if it is right for me to use you to regain my confidence in myself."

Knowing that his emotions were leaking into the touch telepath, Jim tried his best to add tolerant commiseration to the frustrated affection that rose up in him. 

He knew that it was often best to shock Spock out of the downward spiral he could lock himself in with such thoughts:

"Mm. Do you really wonder, or are you merely indulging in some self-pity?" 

Shocked out of his contemplative mood, Spock gave him an outraged look over his shoulder. Jim smiled at him.

"God, you have no idea how hot you look lying there." Jim continued. He refrained from pointing out the effect that the Vulcan's beautifully disordered and tousled bangs had on him, lest Spock might get the idea that he needed to bring that too under control.

Maybe the stirring heat in Jim's groin leapt over to the telepath. Maybe it was just the view of the golden-haired man, naked man above him. In either case, Jim saw something stir in Spock's eyes, an ember turning into a bonfire. He could get lost in those eyes, Jim thought.

"I want you," The Vulcan stated, muscles in his shoulders tensing slightly.

Jim felt an answering fire in his own eyes. He carelessly swept the finished dermal regenerator down to the floor and, winning a short battle against his more immediate instincts, lowered himself carefully atop the other man. His teeth found the tip of an ear and he bit down softly. Biting and kissing, he traveled downwards to the Vulcan's cheek. 

"You have me," he whispered in response, his words so low that no human would have heard them.

Then he grabbed Spock's thigh and pushed it upwards with one hand, the other reaching for the tube by the bedside. As he touched the tight opening with his finger, circling slowly inside it, Spock's breath hitched and his shoulder blades flexed. Then he stilled, and Jim thought of all the coiled power of a panther, held at bay beneath his hands. He felt his own breath catch.

At least an hour, he told himself sternly. Then, sensing the shocked disbelief of his inner fifteen year old who mutely pointed to the tempting body in front of him, he amended: Or at least half an hour. 

Then he'd flip them over, watch Spock's eyes as he fucked him back to the present with long powerful strokes. He knew that it was not the Vulcan way to aim for simultaneous orgasms, but after having taken Spock so thoroughly for the last few hours, he'd ask if he would be alright with Jim bringing him over the edge then. 

Maybe he'd say no, and Jim would finish within him, feeling the tight flesh clench down on him as he took the pleasure he'd denied himself for so long. 

Maybe he'd say yes, and Jim would get to see that look in his best friend's eyes when he came, that look of pure starlight. In either case, he'd bring the Vulcan out to the shower afterwards and wash him carefully, just as in the ancient texts. 

Fifteen year old Jim didn't see why the thought of those soft caresses in the shower would bring such anticipation to his chest, but then fifteen year old Jim was a fool.


End file.
